


featherlight kisses as I drift

by Tiara_of_Sapphires



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Compliant, Introspection, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Post-Endgame, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-03-01 03:04:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18791695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiara_of_Sapphires/pseuds/Tiara_of_Sapphires
Summary: Bucky wants to sleep, but nobody sleeps anymore.





	featherlight kisses as I drift

**Author's Note:**

> My lil foray in Marvel :3 my bois deserve nothing but happiness  
> Cheers!  
> I own nothing!

Bucky had nightmares before the Snap and before Hydra’s fall. They were broken, fractured things. He dreamt of cages and restraints and his mind being broken and reshaped, broken and reshaped. He dreamt of killing faceless people, cutting them down like a child would whip off the head of a dandelion.

While on ice, he dreamt of nothing, and that was a blessing.

After Hydra, after Steve woke him up, he dreamt of killing the people who were kind to him. Whether it was a sniper’s bullet or a knife to the throat, those dreams were the worst.

Now, after 5 years that felt like 5 hours, an intense loneliness coupled with the feeling of being surrounded haunted his dreams. The feeling of being caught between sleep and awake and being alone and crushed by a crowd, all at once. That was the collective experience of half the world’s population, apparently.

They called it an epidemic of sleeplessness and depression that nobody had anticipated or was remotely prepared to deal with. Bucky would agree with them. Were it not for the fact that it would take no less an elephant tranquilizer or a punch from a metahuman to put him to sleep against his will, he would be on all sorts of sleep aids.

“Yeah, man, it’s weird,” Sam murmured.

They found themselves in the same place, night after night.

Between the hours of 3:00 and 3:30, Bucky would wake up after getting a few snatches of sleep. He would get up, wander to the kitchen, to find Sam already there with two cups of tea prepared.

They would sit around, drinking tea, sometimes talking and sometimes not. It was just nice to be quiet and lulled by existence.

Steve was gone. Or, he had retreated back to his little house in upstate New York to live the rest of his days. He was gone from the Avengers and gone from him.

Bucky couldn’t bring himself to visit.

“Earth to Bucky?”

He blinked, eyes finding Sam’s. His gaze had gotten soft and his mouth was wet from the last dregs of his tea. Bucky should really stop looking at Sam’s mouth.

“Just thinking,” he mumbled.

Sam leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Still can’t believe that these shmucks got to go to space while we were stuck in the land of Nod.”

Bucky nodded, though his mind drifted. It was nice to think about things other than the current mission. He could think about the man in front of him without fearing punishment.

Sam dreamt of falling out of the sky, bombs and blood and helplessness. A man named Riley.

Bucky didn't probe or push when Sam would describe what kept him up at night, though he did look through Sam’s files. It was an unfortunately side-effect of his time at Hydra: the need to find information about his targets. Of course, Sam wasn’t a target in the sense that Bucky was out to kill him, but it was something both very innocent and very…not. He didn't like to think too much about the underlying thing that would lead him to reading Sam’s files in the early hours of the night.

It felt voyeuristic at the time, like looking at something too holy for his eyes to see, guilt like poison in his gut, but it filled in a few gaps in the puzzle that was Sam Wilson.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Sam wondered, “Or, 18 cents for your thoughts, counting inflation.”

Sam had been getting creative with his old-man jokes. He could only do the walker, coke-bottle glasses, and hip-replacement references so many times before they got stale.

“I’m just thinking that it probably isn’t healthy with how little sleep we’re getting.”

“No doubt.”

Nobody slept anyone. Those who had disappeared found their nightmares hard to live with and those who had remained spent as much time as they could with the ones they had lost.

Sam, Bucky supposed, was the one he wanted to spend time with.

He didn't have many options, he told himself. That was why he always ended up with Sam.

Sometimes, Wanda Maximoff would join them, but she would usually make herself a cup of hot chocolate, have a snarky exchange with Sam, ignore Bucky, and wander off. Bucky could understand why. They were both tools in Hydra’s war machine and it was decidedly awkward having conversations with a former pseudo-coworker.

Shuri would often call, demanding updates. She asked about Sam a lot, really pointed questions about how Bucky and him were doing as friends and what they were doing. He had no idea why and didn't think to ask.

“Should we watch something? Indiana Jones?” Bucky asked, trying to turn Sam’s attention away from him. Sometimes, it felt like he was combusting under Sam’s stare. “Those were some funny movies.”

Sam rolled his eyes with a sigh. “We’ve watched The Last Crusade about twenty times. Can we move to Star Wars, please?”

Ah, and the prey takes the bait.

Bucky crossed his arms, smirking, “There’s over 10 movies to watch. I can’t make that commitment.”

It was remarkably easy to poke fun at Sam. It was nice to find humor in things, after years of a blank and humorless existence.

“That’s a shitty argument, Barnes,” Sam insisted, “If you have time to watch Crusade twenty times, you can sit your ass down and watch Star Wars.”

They ended up not watching anything that night. Instead, Sam gave a list of movies Bucky ought to watch and how deprived an existence Bucky was living in not watching them.

“Hell, tv shows and music albums! I’m making you playlists for the next time we ship out,” Sam exclaimed.

The list continued and Bucky let himself be lulled by the sound of Sam’s voice. It almost as good as a full night’s sleep.

* * *

* * *

The next night, Bucky found the kitchen quiet and empty. The water kettle was off and quiet, the box of tea in its shelf, the lights dim.

Sam wasn’t there, that much was clear. Odd, because the man was like clockwork.

Maybe Sam had been able to sleep a full night for once. Bucky’s heart sank in his chest, envy and something he was too scared to name.

Bucky’s mouth twisted as he began to make two cups of tea: decaffeinated earl grey with lemon and sugar.

His mind wandered as he went through the routine. It wasn’t like assembling and disassembling a gun or sharpening a knife. It wasn’t life-or-death, wasn’t required of him by force. He wanted to do it.

Sure, if Sam was asleep or refused the cup, it would be awkward and Bucky could already imagine the sheepish embarrassment that would come from it. He could imagine pouring the cup down the drain, or just drinking two cups to prevent the waste.

If Sam was awake and needed it, Bucky would be a hero, wouldn’t he? He’d save Sam the trouble of having to make his own tea. He would be rewarded by a smile that always made Bucky’s stomach flip.

“You got this,” he mumbled.

Finally, two cups in hand, Bucky walked through the dark and quiet halls of the Avengers compound.

Bucky’s room was furthest down the hall, Sam’s in the middle.

Rhodes had put a bird sticker on his door, making it extra clear who’s room it was. He smiled at the memory. Sam had pouted and fussed about how he was clearly a falcon and not the hummingbird the sticker depicted.

Bucky stood in front of the door, staring for a moment, unsure if he should just assume Sam was asleep and leave him alone.

Finally, he squashed the feeling. He could do plenty of things: balance two mugs and open a door at the same time was one of them.

The door opened with a barely-there creak.

Bucky looked inside and found Sam sat on his bedside, hunched over and staring. Bucky followed his gaze and saw the glint of vibranium against the wall.

“Sam?”

Sam jumped, turning towards the door.

Bucky watched as emotions played across his face: surprise, sorrow, embarrassment, exhaustion, finally landing on concern.

“You okay, man?” Sam asked.

Bucky couldn't help but blink wordlessly. As if he wasn’t staring at the shield with an anguished expression, Sam asked if _Bucky_ was okay?

“You were late and I didn't want to wait around for your ass to get out of bed.”

Sam struggled to smile.

“Yeah, sorry for keeping you waiting.” Sam shrugged, shoulders sagging heavily. “Guess I didn’t feel like tea tonight.”

“The shield is keeping you up?” Bucky asked.

That wasn’t on any of the files for reasons that would prevent Sam from sleeping, but now that he thought about it, it was obvious. Bucky watched as Steve left the 21st century and returned again in an almost unrecognizable state. If anyone was meant to get Cap's shield, it would be Sam. Sam was the best man for the job.

“Steve wouldn’t have given you that if he didn't know you would be able to handle it. He believes in you, Sam.”

Sam swallowed loudly. “And you?”

The answer jumped out of Bucky’s mouth before he could check it. “I believe in you.”

Sam's brow jumped in surprise, before he sagged again. “I don’t know if anyone else will.”

“You’ll prove it to them. I know it.”

Bucky walked further into the room, the door closing behind him. His heart was racing in his chest and still he didn't want to look inside himself too long to figure out why.

“Sam, come on.”

He held out the mug and Sam took it, cupping it in his hands.

Bucky didn't know what to do with his free hand now, his flesh one, so he clenched it into a fist.

“Tea with lemon,” Sam murmured, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Silence, comforting as it usually was, feel between them. There was still something underlying it that Bucky was beginning to realize was something heavier and more dangerous than simply friendship.

“Do you want me to stay?”

Bucky immediately wanted to melt into the floor after asking.

He was in trouble. The longer he stayed in that room, the more evident it became. He was in big trouble, and not the potentially fatal kind of trouble but the kind that would be damaging if he didn’t watch where he stepped.

“Ah, thank you. But, I think I’ll try to sleep.”

Sam wasn’t looking at him so he took the opportunity to droop a little in disappointment before finding a more neutral position.

He reached out and rested his hand on Sam's shoulder.

The feeling of Sam's thin nightshirt, the play of warm skin and muscle underneath, sent a bolt through Bucky.

Fuck.

 “Alright,” Bucky sighed, “You have a good night. And I’ll kick your ass tomorrow if it whips you into shape.”

Sam laughed; Bucky could feel it as much as hear it.

“Alright, Bucky. Sounds good. You go sleep, too, alright?”

A squeeze, then release.

“Alright.”

He started towards the door, metal hand so tight around the mug he needed to consciously make sure it didn't shatter.

Sam Wilson, the new Captain America.

Bucky stood in the doorway, heart in his throat. He glanced back at Sam, who still sat on his bed, sipping on his cup of tea. “I’ll be there, whatever you’ll need, you know?”

Sam glanced back at him, eyes wide with surprise. It was a perfect expression, something Bucky mentally captured to relish later. Bucky shut the door before Sam could say anything more. He leaned against it, laughing quietly to himself.

Sleep? Yeah, right. He wasn’t going to sleep a wink that night.

**Author's Note:**

> Yaaaaay! Bucky is an emotionally-repressed bean hopelessly in love but yaaaaay!  
> Feedback is much appreciated!!  
> Cheers!


End file.
